Yara sees the smoke in the distance, and knows she is too late, even as she rides hard with Qarl the Maid and two score outriders. She had been warned the night before, by one of the local gentry, a Flint, that the village was in danger. He and his people had been ordered to retreat and destroy their homes and property, before the advance of her army. To her surprise, most of the population had obeyed, but the man had explained to her over dinner:
"Even so far from Winterfell, men fear the Queen's Inquisition. And, her army marches from Torrhens Square, more than twenty thousand strong." In truth, she had expected more gentry and smallfolk to switch sides, but away from Stony Shore, few have done. They fear Sansa too much. The inhabitants of Fenny Bridges, the village she is riding for, are among those who have defied the Queen. She fears they are paying the price.
They are now nearly a hundred miles away from the shore, marching towards the Northern host which approaches from Torrhens Square. She has appointed Grey Worm commander in chief of the combined army. Her own knowledge of war is largely confined to fighting at sea. Some of her men had complained that she had given up her own command, but it was only sensible to make use of one of the world's foremost commanders on land. She rides with the light cavalry, usually ten to fifteen miles ahead of the main army. Increasingly, she has been skirmishing with the enemy scouts, neither side winning a decisive advantage. Grey Worm had suggested she remain with the rest of the army, rather than risk herself, but she loves fighting too much; it is a weakness that all the Greyjoys share. She smiles at Qarl, the father of her two sons, whom she hastily married, prior to the invasion. She had legitimised their children already, which would satisfy the Iron Islanders. But, she wants there to be no doubt about the Northern succession, after she has won the throne. The Greenlanders after all have silly prejudices against bastards. If she falls, the war will continue in their name.
The commander of the cavalry squadron, Sigurd Harlaw, calls a halt, half a mile from the village. A couple of his men dismount, approaching the village stealthily on foot through the woods which surround it. A few minutes later they return, and one of them reports. "As we thought, they're firing the village. About two dozen riders. And, they're having fun at the same time". Yara grimaces. Although no stranger to bloodshed, she has never killed or maimed for sport. Indeed, both she and Grey Worm have been adamant that the Northern inhabitants must not be molested in any way; she will give her future subjects no grounds to hate her. She has had no option but to seize livestock and crops along the way, where available, but she has paid the inhabitants with coin provided by Magister Illyrio. Sansa's men, on the other hand, have no qualms about punishing ruthlessly any who disobey her orders. Grudgingly, she admits the sense behind her rival's hiring so many mercenaries and masterless men; they have no qualms about molesting the locals. Still, they have the chance to bring a measures of justice today.
They ride hard for the village, sweeping in from both ends of the main street. It is more of a rout than fight. A handful of riders put up resistance, including one brute she recognises, Dagon Codd, exiled from Pyke for theft. From his horse, he aims a deadly cut at her head, which she only avoids by leaning as far back as she can in her stirrups. She spurs forward, aiming a cut with her axe, as the man's horse collapses backwards from her. Codd cries out, tumbling from his saddle and dropping his sword, only for the man who hangstrung his horse to put a sword to his neck. He looks enquiringly at Yara "Keep him for questioning," she orders. Another man trusses Codd's hands behind his back. It turns out he is the only survivor. The rest are dead or fled. She dismounts and surveys the village, the surviving inhabitants crowding round to thank her. They take her to show her the raiders' work. Above a midden, a makeshift gallows has been erected. Three men and two girls hang from it. She judges the youngest to be no older than ten. Half the village has been burned. The villagers tell of her of rapes, and of men and women being murdered where they stood. About a score were killed, all told. She returns to Codd, now sitting up in his bonds:
"Were you the leader of this merry band?"
"Fuck you!" is the only response. Qarl walks over, and knees the man, hard in the face, breaking his nose, and causing him to fall backwards in the mud. He sets him up again.
"I'm going to ask you a few questions, Codd" says Yara mildly, pulling out her dirk from his sheath. "Every time you give me the wrong answer, I'm going to cut you. First an ear, then a finger, then your nose, then your cock, do you understand? Within half an hour, you'll be a pile of carved meat." The brute stares at her sullenly, but nods.
"Good. Were you in charge here?" The man nods.
"Are you part of a larger band?"
"About a hundred. We've been sent out to punish those who disobey the Queen."
"And how far is the main army?"
"How the fuck should I know?"
She strikes swiftly, taking his left ear with her dirk. The man screams. "Maybe thirty miles from here" he hisses.
"Good. That's all I need to know. " Codd sees the expressions on the faces of his captors, and struggles in his bonds. "Give me a sword at least, and let me die like a man. Or are you too coward to fight me?"
"Too coward to fight you, Codd" says Qarl. "You, who murder villagers for the sport of it"? He draws his sword, intending to make an end of the man.
"Easy now, Qarl" says Yara, putting a hand on his sword arm. "You're not the kind of man who'd kill a defenceless prisoner"
She picks up her axe, and drives it hard between Codd's eyes, splitting his skull in two. "For that sort thing, you need a callous bitch like me!"
Notes:
It's never been that unusual for monarchs and princes to put a professional soldier in charge of their army, and accept their commands, while still taking part in the fighting